San Francisco Police: Nice Work — And Then Not So Much

Today we offer up a two-parter for the San Francisco police. We begin with an attaboy for a prompt and effective response to the North Beach neighborhood. But then we snap back with a razzberry for poor public relations and a severe need for a chill pill.

First, nice reaction to neighbors near Washington Square who recently complained about intimidating loafers hanging around park benches. One of the guys had a dangerous pit bull that attacked dogs more than once and was eventually classified a “vicious and dangerous dog” and confined by the SFPD.

SF Chronicle: Frederic Larson

Washington Square is back to being a pleasant, friendly city park.

Beginning this weekend, several e-mailers wrote to say there was a noticeable increase in police presence at the park. As one reader said, “It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen the park without at least one inebriate doing something illegal there. Pretty amazing sight.”

Again, this wasn’t a case of a couple of sleepy winos sitting on the grass. When I went out there I saw a loud, confrontational group, many of whom were drinking from open containers. They wanted to know “What are you looking at?” and definitely gave the impression they felt they could shut up anyone who complained.

“Embarrassingly, it had started to feel like the seventh-grade school yard where you were avoiding the bully on the way to the water fountain,” said Nick Rogers, who made an early complaint to the police and then was confronted by what a headline writer called the “bogeymen” of the park.

But now, Rogers says, it is “almost like the place is brand new again.”

Kudos to SFPD and particularly Assistant Police Chief Jeff Godown, who pushed to get that done.

However . . .

If Saturday wasn’t the most perfect day ever in San Francisco it must have tied for the title. It was shorts and T-shirt sunny and along the Embarcadero 5,000 runners raced and jogged along the AT&T Giant Race. One guy, wearing a panda hat in honor of Pablo Sandoval, captured the mood perfectly.

At least until we reached Embarcadero and Washington, where our attention was drawn to an SFPD officer going absolutely ballistic to a nice, 50-ish couple who appeared to be tourists.

The woman, now back on the curb, raised her hand and said, “Sorry, I misunderstood what you said.”

“DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH?” Officer Crazy-guy shouted. “RED MEANS STOP!”

By now people had stopped on the sidewalk and were staring.

“Hey,” I said, “you need to calm down. That’s enough.”

“RIGHT. NOW YOU’RE GOING TO TELL ME HOW TO DO MY JOB?”

As a matter of fact, I’d be happy to. You job is directing traffic on a warm and friendly morning beside the Bay. You are not on the gang task force. And that two-minute exchange just un-did all the good will a day in sunny San Francisco built up.

What I should have done is written down your name and badge number. But you know who you were. And I’ll bet others do too.